Donatello's Spot
by Chevy Nova
Summary: At the ripe age of seventeen, Donatello understands his place in the world. Years with only one another for comfort and company have created a tight and orchestrated balance within the Hamato clan. When his brothers test these assumptions, however, Don is presented with a lingering confusion over his own identity.
1. Loneliness

Loneliness

**Disclaimer: **I do not own TMNT. I make no profit from this story.

**Author's Note: **This story contains no slash/incest. I have an amazing beta reader who helped make this story what it is, and she deserves much of my gratitude and appreciation. I greatly enjoyed working on this chapter and look forward to sharing the rest of the story soon. Thank you for reading.

-oOo-

"Do you have to do that?"

Leo's eyes slipped open and he cast a curious glance over to the other turtle sitting across from him, "Sorry, is it bothering you?"

Donatello sighed as he reached up and rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times before he shook his head, "No, you just never used to hum before. It's kind of distracting."

"I'm not humming, I'm chanting. It's a new technique I've been working on; it's supposed to give me better concentration."

Leaning forward, Don rested his elbow on his knee as he propped his chin in his palm, tilting his head up as he continued to stare at Leo in earnest. The older turtle couldn't help but notice in the growing shadows of the evening sun just how deep the bags under Don's eyes had grown over the past few weeks. The weariness in Don's grin grew that much more apparent as he leaned forward to jab at his brother's knee, "If you concentrate any deeper you're going to meditate yourself into a coma, Leo."

The older turtle rolled his eyes, failing to completely hide his smile as he reached forward and gave Don's shoulder a gentle shove to bring him back to an upright position, "Whatever. Come on, you need to clear your mind."

As Don covered his mouth to stifle a yawn, Leo's hand darted forward to grab both of his wrists, firmly planting them down onto his lap. Don didn't resist, conditioned to Leo's obsession with self-improvement, "Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing."

"Stop holding my hands, Leo. It's weird."

"Concentrate."

"Alright, I am." Don fidgeted a bit before Leo finally released his hold on his brother's wrists. Don's eyes remained closed as he exhaled and straightened his posture.

Satisfied, Leo sat back, resuming his former position of deep meditation as he likewise closed his eyes and relaxed the tension in his neck and shoulders. Of his three brothers, Don was able to withstand his albeit sometimes trying daily meditative practices with the most vigor, though Leo was aware that even Don had his antsy days. And with the younger turtle's mind constantly zipping back and forth a mile a minute, seemingly filled with another new discovery or random tidbit of interesting, if not utterly useless, information, Leo was convinced Don required meditation just as much, if not more than either Raph or Mikey.

Don, however seemed to have a growing knack in fabricating ever craftier new excuses to remove himself from practice, and Leo was thankful when the younger turtle at least attempted to humor him.

Leo found that he had an easier time in accepting Don's resistance in achieving a restful mind, when he took to viewing Don's constant tinkering with his gadgets as a type of meditation. After all, when he worked, it was always alone, his mind engaged in something outside of himself, and the younger turtle always acted considerably mellower after emerging from his dark and tucked away workplace. Leo had an abrupt jolting realization it had become far too quiet.

"Donnie?"

Leo felt a sudden rising concern as he opened his eyes and glanced over at his sibling. Don had forgone his meditative position, and was staring blankly out before him. Hunched over, his hands hung from his knees. Leo hesitated, allowing his tone to soften to a murmur, "You okay?"

"Sure. Just thinking."

"About April?"

Leo winced the second the words left his mouth, his guilt worsened by the dark glare Don shot his way.

"I meant because her trip was extended." Leo knew he was terrible at back pedaling but he babbled on anyway. It felt better than nothing. "I know she's been gone awhile, but it's just for work. She'll….uh…she'll be back soon. I miss her too, Don. I didn't mean…I didn't ask because I'm trying to…"

Through the years, Don had revealed himself to have the useful, if not slightly alarming, penchant for the art of weaving rather convincing lies. As disturbing as this tendency was, it disturbed Leo even more to realize that Don hadn't even attempted to sound convincing as he gave a half-hearted, "Sure."

Leo couldn't hide his cringe as he glanced off to the side, searching for a way to salvage this, "You know, Raph and Mikey don't mean what they say half the time." Leo was painfully aware that if there was something he was worse at than back pedaling, it was comfort talking. He sort of wished he had discovered this lack of talent elsewhere. "They're only teasing. It's no big deal if-"

"I only told April that because I honestly thought we were going to die, Leo."

This time Leo listened to his better judgment and remained silent, giving a nod in response instead. He noticed as Don's hands twitched, almost curling into fists but stopped either from lack of conviction or lack of energy. It was difficult to tell which.

"Besides, I _did_ mean it." He shot Leo a look as the older turtle opened his mouth, his words picking up speed, "Because I share with her the same platonic love I feel for you and Mikey and Raph. The same way I love Splinter. Like family."

A surge of embarrassment brought a wave of heat to Leo's face and he gave another nod. He was silent for a moment, studying the genuine frustration etched on his younger brother's face in regards to his supposed infatuation with their female human friend.

"I know Donnie," Leo said. It bothered him to realize it was the first time he actually did.

"I believe you."

"It's not my problem you guys have to turn it all into something it isn't." Don stretched his arms in front of him and stood up. Leo could still detect the underlying tone in his brother's voice, a warning to react with caution as he moved to stand up as well.

"What's so amusing about wanting to care for and include other people in our lives anyway?"

Leo pulled back, even as Don was already stepping away from him, "Nothing. No one ever said there was. You don't have to take it like that, we all care about April, and you know that."

The younger turtle stepped a few paces away from his brother before he stopped and looked around. Leo followed his gaze, and for a few minutes both turtles did nothing but admire in silence the glowing majesty of the rising sun as it stretched and shimmered across the jutting rooftops. It was a view they were often denied; especially from such an open and free perspective.

In the glow of the mounting sun, Leo noticed that Don was shivering.

"You know, I'm really honored it was me you choose to bring up here with you."

Don blinked out of his trance, turning back to look over at his older brother, who now stepped over to join him. They were only a few feet away from the edge of the six story rooftop, yet relatively hidden from view due to the chest high brick wall enclosing the area, "You are? I almost hadn't told you, I thought you would have been upset that I was even out here in the first place."

"While that may be true under most circumstances, I don't see you purposefully putting yourself in unnecessary danger by being reckless. I know you're smarter than that, Donnie." Leo cast his brother a grin, "Besides, this really is a nice spot; close enough to the docks to see the shore, but still away enough from the crowds. Makes sense why someone would have once used this spot as a canvas." He said, looking back over at the large mural of a black-coated marching band performing down the bustling city streets, which covered the long wall behind them. Don followed his glance, but said nothing.

"And ever since the theater shut down across the street it's been a chain reaction, not a lot of foot traffic around the block." Leo said with a shrug, looking back at Don, "It's not like we're sitting in Central Park or cruising the streets; unlike _some_ turtles I might mention."

It was a relief to see Donnie smile again. Though, even Leo couldn't quite stomach the overly corny comparison of associating it with the sun climbing higher into the dewy sky.

So he thought of it as a relief and left it at that.

"Yeah well, we all have our own ways of finding new people to care for." Don said with a shrug as he continued to stare at the mural.

Leo frowned, "What?"

"You know, like when Raph spends hours out at night. And why Mikey still picks up the occasional party gig, despite his sworn oath to never bobble head again."

"I'm not following."

Don had remained quiet, as he seemed rather intent in keeping his eyes upon the rising wash of the morning light upon the mural. Leo followed Don's gaze and the sun's glow steadily crept its way up the individual painted faces of each member of the mural.

It amused him how, whoever had taken the doubtless numerous hours out of their life to create such a painstakingly detailed mural, had gone as far as taking care that not a single member of the band had the same face. A cookie clutter blur from afar of a mass of perfectly pressed uniforms and shiny caps was transformed into a display of the diversity and energy of New York City itself.

Don looked over at Leo, "Why do you think Raph would spend all his spare time around people, in the middle of a bustling city, if what he actually wanted was to be left alone?"

Leo paused, not entirely sure how to respond. Don's former smile had faded away as quickly as it had come, and it occurred to Leo how frequently that seemed to happen nowadays. It seemed more and more that only Mikey was willing to humor him anymore with a façade of feisty enthusiasm. As tiresome as that sometimes was, Leo could always rely on it as Mikey's tried and trusted method in extracting some form of attention out of anyone. It only now occurred to Leo how easily he may have missed the yearning signs for human, or turtle, contact all of his brothers may have exhibited.

"You really think Raph would continue to hang out with Casey if that wasn't what he had wanted from his nightly excursions in the first place?" Don stepped forward, turned and leaned his shell against the mural before sliding down to the ground into the same meditative position as earlier.

He closed his eyes, and his head bobbed for just a moment, his voice the only sign that he was even still awake, "I guess Raph's lucky. He's been going topside longer than any of us. And Mikey's a natural, took him less than a week to find his niche. Maybe none of those people really ever look twice at them, knowing who or what they are. But I think, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe, just being around them all is enough. It's easy to pretend you belong."

"Don…" Leo's voice hesitated with a shameful twinge, which only deepened as his brother's eyes remained shut, "do you like it when you're left alone in your lab for hours?"

The younger turtle didn't answer right away and in the silence Leo bent down and sat beside him. When Don at last reopened his eyes, he avoided his brother and instead stared down at the limp hands lying lifeless in his lap. Leo slipped his arm around Donnie's shoulders, glad when the other leant in against him and closed his eyes once more. After a few minutes Leo had assumed Don had fallen asleep.

"Please don't let everyone forget me."

Donnie did always have a way of proving Leo wrong.


	2. Fear

Fear

**Author's Note: **My sincerest gratitude and thanks to my amazing beta reader and for all those who took the time to leave me a review. Your thoughts and encouragement are wonderful and I very much hope chapter 2 will meet your expectations. I enjoyed working on it and would love to read your thoughts, opinions and ideas on its progress.

-oOo

A thick, sticky glob of melted chocolate landed with perfect bull's-eye marksmanship directly atop Donatello's head. He shivered against the contrasting chill of the frozen treat and the warm humidity of the air, still strong despite the sun dipping itself into the horizon for its evening nap.

"Oops, sorry about that bro. Let me get that for you."

"Ew! Mikey!"

Donatello aimed a shove towards his younger brother, but even Don's normally quick reflexes were no match for an extremely zealous teenager determined push the boundaries of his older sibling's ever waning patience. As such, he was forced to endure the slick, sloppy tongue of Mikey, as the younger turtle licked away the glob in a show of sheer obnoxiousness. Mikey laughed as he narrowly avoided the harrowing strike of his disgusted brother before hopping up on the ledge next to Don. Holding out the sad remains of the second frozen treat as a peace offering, he grinned, "Here. It only got a little squished on the climb up here."

Mikey shoved the wilting Popsicle in Don's hand and instantly flashed his trademark grin. Don looked ready to sock him in the arm, though Mike was quick enough to bat his baby blues and he chuckled as Don relented. He knew Don's laziness would get the better of him, especially when free ice cream was involved.

"Thanks."

Satisfied, Mikey settled in beside Don, swinging his legs out over the edge of the brick wall as he shoved his own Fudgsicle in his mouth. The two turtles seemed content to simply relax in a comfortable silence, the younger subconsciously swaying his legs in tune with the music of the city's evening buzz, which only natives of a gruff and bustling metropolis ever really seemed to appreciate for its strange sort of rhythm.

It was a cooler evening, for which Mikey found himself thankful. Though he'd never had a particular preference for one time of year over the other seeing as it all pretty much looked the same from the lair's point of view, just a bit damper here or there, he found himself welcoming the cooler months of the year.

He was beginning to understand humans a bit better, as they were interestingly quite in tune with the changing of the weather. And cooler air meant a shifting in schedules. More specifically, cooler air meant children being sent back to school. And school-filled days meant parents less willing to spend quite as much time on their children for things as frivolous as birthdays. At least Mikey could hope. It made sense to him anyway, and he was all too willing to hop on the bandwagon of condensing just how much time shrieking five year olds had to waste with throwing around plastic baseball bats and foam nun-chucks. He shot a glance over to his brother, "Do you think sprinkles would taste good on pizza?"

"I don't think so." Don replied without missing a beat, as he strategically pulled at a bit of wrapper embedded into the side of his half melted ice cream, "The consistency would be weird."

"Maybe." Mikey rubbed his chin in a way he had taken to doing whenever the opportunity to show just how deep he could think presented itself, "But think of how much time it would save at birthday parties."

"Chocolate chips would be better… with no sauce. Then maybe it would be like a kind of pie."

Mikey grinned as he took another bite of his own dessert, "I guess we'll have to try them out and see."

And he knew they would.

Even if he had to make the utterly disgusting thing all by himself, Don was the only one of his brothers who would humor him and actually muscle through and eat their strange creations, no matter how peculiar. Unsurprisingly, Mikey never seemed to tire of forging these kinds of moments with his older brother, which seemed to consist more and more lately of eating astoundingly inedible concoctions.

The fact that Master Splinter never seemed to particularly mind the result after such experimentations only confirmed Mikey's suspicions, that even after they _both_ were out of training for a whole week after sampling his new and "improved" famous Super Deluxe Awesome Mega Ninja Power Smoothie, his time in the kitchen with Don could never be replaced.

Sure, Donatello knew the periodic table by heart, and maybe he was the only one fluent in Farsi after teaching himself during whatever hours he managed to finagle out of the day, yet he still was the only one just as thrilled at the idea of mixing tomato paste and chocolate syrup in pursuit of the final secret ingredient for the perfect recipe. Or so Mikey assumed. Even he knew that was a quality he couldn't find in just anyone, though he figured it might be nice not to give his brother food poisoning every once in a while. Though he found it surprisingly difficult when the time came to imagine anything else equally as amusing to do.

"You think they'll over reopen that theater again down the block? They had good popcorn." Mikey cast his eyes over in the general direction of where he had some inkling the theater in question stood.

"I doubt it. They primarily played foreign films and documentaries."

"But that's what made it so cool!"

"True." Don shrugged, though he looked a bit more intent on the task at hand, as he seemed unable to quite manage to prevent the melting Popsicle from dripping all across his fingers. Mikey resisted the urge to give him a good poke at his apparent inability to eat like a normal person. "But it's not exactly what most people around here want to watch." Don continued, "In addition to the docks over on this side of the city largely reserved for commercial fishermen, there isn't much of a recreational use for the area in general."

"Yeah, I guess so." Mikey sighed, cradling his chin in his palm as he gazed wistfully at his somehow non-melted treat "Well, c'est la vie dude." He was quick to perk up however, ribbing Don with his elbow, "Hey, remember how cool it was when you found this place that night! You couldn't even tell that this area wasn't all closed off for construction, but it was like you just knew there was something awesome over here."

Don grinned and gave a half shrug that looked agreeable enough, "Yeah, I guess that was pretty lucky."

"Seriously! I mean, it's pretty rad having a place just for us."

Don's Popsicle paused halfway to its journey to his mouth as he cast a pensive glance over at Mikey. The younger turtle didn't even seem to notice, too engrossed with the task of testing just how wildly it was possible to swing his legs over the ledge before completely losing all semblance of balance and toppling over.

"Yeah?"

"Huh? Well yeah." Mikey turned his attention back once more at the task at hand, his tongue darting out to lick up the last of the highly unneeded sugary goodness, before tossing the leftover stick carelessly off the side of the ledge. The unmistakable _pink_ of it landing with perfect precision down in the dumpster below occurred seconds later. "It's kind of like when we were little and we had that huge cardboard box we kept in Splinter's room. Remember? We used to hide in it whenever Raph wanted to sit on us or Leo wanted to trick us into cleaning his room."

Don followed suit and calculatingly dropped his own Popsicle stick down below, "I haven't thought of that box in years. By the way Mikey, you should get me a Fudgscicle instead next time. I like those better and Raph won't tan you for stealing from his Popsicle stash."

"Dude, that box was so cool! I wonder whatever happened to it."

"Why? You do realize that neither of us could fit inside it now anyway? And did you hear what I said about the Fudgsicle?"

"Maybe it got ruined when the sewers flooded that one winter. Or maybe Splinter knows. Maybe he kept it and he's got it hidden somewhere secret. I mean, I had some pretty good drawings done on the inside of that thing; they could be collectors' items someday! Whoa!"

Mikey's hand shot outward, pointing up into the sky and Don was jerked from listening to his brother's usual ramblings about nothing from the sudden burst of excitement

"I knew this was gonna be an awesome night!"

Don looked up in the direction of Mikey's exclamations, and in half a heartbeat both brothers had jumped to their feet, the tips of their toes curling around the brink of the ledge. They stepped apart just enough to spread their arms wide, in complete and utter reckless abandon. A moment later, the air was filled with the sound of rushing wind, engulfing them both with the monstrous roar of its engines as a low flying plane skimmed its way over the rooftops.

Just as the belly of the plane glided over them, the wind carrying with it enough force to knock over anyone caught unaware, Mikey belted out a loud and passionate crow that somehow managed to pierce the air, through the drowning rush of the aircraft. Don jumped beside him, pumping his fists with equal excitement and gave out a few whoops of his own, though they hardly rivaled in intensity the singing sensation of Mikey's battle cry.

Mikey's allowed the free and open sensation to course through every inch of his body, bursting out in his wild frenzy as his shouts rattled in his chest with their own unique vivacity. The sound of his voice trumpeting through the air filled his head, and he hardly recognized the noise as his own, which only prompted him to fill his lungs and cry out even louder than before.

Mikey always worried his brothers were so wrapped up in perfecting their ability to remain invisible that they sometimes forgot just how amazing it was to be alive…especially Don, who seemed more and more withdrawn during his quiet nights alone. These thoughts are what prodded the younger turtle to shout even louder than before, hoping his thrill for this single, amazing moment would overflow to his brother, creating something they could truly share and be temporarily heedless of anything else around them.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be engulfed in the whirlwind around them of rushing air and his own trumpeting exclamations. Mikey could feel the vibrating life force of energy that beat from both himself and in his brother. As he inhaled and let out a final passionate bellow, in the back of his mind he couldn't help but notice how he was always the one everyone seemed to hear first. Perceptibly louder and noticeably distinct, he naturally drew energy to him as easily as he radiated it, leaving a lasting imprint on anyone he happened to collide with and he couldn't help to swell a bit with pride knowing that none of his brothers possessed the ability to demand such an audience.

The plane swept passed by them just as swiftly as it had come, taking the torrent of winds and overwhelming roar with it.

Both brothers leapt nimbly off the ledge, tucking themselves back away into the hidden safety of the roof, bursting into simultaneous fits of laughter. Hearts pounding, they doubled over as the rush of adrenaline pulsed through them, the very tips of their fingers and toes tingling.

Only after managing to wipe some tears from his eyes was Mikey at last composed enough to latch onto Don in an appropriate squeeze of perfect brotherly love, "That's why you're awesome, Donnie!" he gasped out, recalling a similar memory of the first time his older brother had snatched his arm and yanked him onto the ledge with a mischievous smirk, "You aren't afraid of anything!"

Donnie valiantly attempted to straighten his posture up from the bent over position instinctively used when attempting to quash the ache that occurs from laughing too hard. He grasped the edge of wall for balance and barely managing to choke out a confused, "What?"

"Yeah." Mikey grinned as he gave Don a light punch to the shoulder and stepped away, hands bunched in enthusiastic fists "Leo would have a total meltdown if we even so much as looked over at this side of town. And Raph always wears his disguise if he ever wants to go out."

Don managed to gain enough control of himself to straighten up and he gave a small shiver as the last of the suns' evening rays closed in on them and he took a deep breath, "As if Raph is ever actually afraid."

"Yeah, guess that's true." Mikey shrugged it off, bouncing over to swing his arm around Don's shoulders in a jostling embrace. He hated how Don had taken to comparing himself to their older brothers as of late, especially to Raphael, and he was determined to brush aside Don's comment. Mikey was quick to notice more and more Don's use of self-deprecating humor, and whenever he felt a conversation steering in that direction he felt an inner sense of duty to turn it around and remind Donatello of the positive aspects that his brother seemed determine to ignore, though it was difficult not to allow such affirmations to wriggle their way out as another joke or similar gesture.

Sometimes he wondered if Don had simply forgotten how much fun they used to have together as the youngest of their little family, but he was determined to keep that brotherly bond from disappearing. The possibility of losing that relationship with Don filled him with an uncharacteristic sense of dread deep down in the pit of his stomach, something that was simply too frightening for him to dwell on for too long. "But you're way more fun than them anyway."

Mikey couldn't help but snicker at the incredulous expression he watched overcome his older brother's face. He knew such compliments weren't exactly the type of thing his brother was normally willing to accept, but he wasn't about to back down now as Don actually seemed a bit pleased with himself for once.

Mikey opened his mouth, ready to continue had he not found himself suddenly caught up in a tight headlock. He let out an unexpected, and to his horror, completely girly sounding, squeak of surprise. As refreshing as it was to know that Don was taking full advantage of the moment, Mikey was reevaluating if was worth the price of a straight up, full scale noogie. At least Don sounded amused as he managed to keep a rather firm grip on him, "Take a note; I am officially changing my name to Donatello, the Fun One."

Mikey's generous laugh sounded more like a stifled huff, seeing as his face was now sufficiently buried in the crook of Don's arm, as he remained quite unable to pull himself free. He did manage, however, to utter out a muffled, "Hey, it's better than Raphael the Eternally Pissed Off at the World, and Leonardo, the Stop Having Fun Or Else We're All Gonna Die!"

Aiming for a way out, Mikey squirmed in his brothers' tight grasp, strategically maneuvering his head and torso around so that he soon found himself; even worse off than before. Mumbling in displeasure at his now worse predicament, he grunted out, "But you, hey, you never worry!"

Sensing the iron grip of the arms that were pinning him down begin to loosen, Mikey was quick to shimmy out of his captors' grasp, stumbling a few feet away and shifting to defense mode. "Finally!" he gasped as he inhaled deeply.

His breath caught in his throat as he fell silent, attempting in vain to ignore the eerie prickling sensation that ran across his neck as he studied his older brother, who now stared blankly out away from them, arms hanging loose at his sides. Turning in the same direction Mikey squinted, wondering if he was missing anything from Don's sudden shift in attitude, yet he only found himself staring at the darkening wall before them.

The last of the sun's amber rays were falling upon both turtles, and Mikey noticed how their shadows slanted over the mural as well, across the painted face of the musicians, and the golden trumpets they played. He allowed himself to stare at it for a few seconds, before pulling away and turning back toward his brother, face crinkled in confusion, the knotted feeling of unease growing stronger in his stomach.

"What's up?" Mikey couldn't bear the overwhelming silence any longer as he reached over to give Don a small shake to the shoulder. He paused when he realized that Don hadn't even heard him, staring out with that regrettably familiar unfocused gaze that never failed to fill Michelangelo with an unexplained sense of dread. His own smile vanished completely as he took a tentative step towards his brother, "Donnie?"

Mikey had, unfortunately, long ago grown used to his inquisitive older brother often falling into random silences, as though his whole persona shut down, effectively shutting out the rest of the world while he fell into the tumults of his own inner consciousness. Yet even though he was familiar with it, didn't mean that he liked it and as his questions had not received so much as a blink in response, Mike felt a sudden urgency to give his brother a firm push to help snap him back to reality. The rigidity of Don's arm struck a familiar chord of heightened wariness in Mikey and he strengthened his voice as he tried again,

"Earth to Donnie? You okay, bro?"

The sun made its final farewell, slipping both the mural and turtle brothers into the encompassing night's shadow and Don twitched so harshly out of his trance that Mikey jumped back, eyes wide. The younger turtle scanned his older brother's face, recognizing the silent indications he had long since grown accustomed to of a potential mental disintegration and he squared himself firmly before Donatello, attempting with louder, "Don?"

The bo wielding ninja gave a visible shudder which only heightened Michelangelo's already rising surge of apprehension for his older brother. He bit his tongue, mind racing yet knew any words he chose when Donatello fell into a lapse required absolute precision. More often than not he found it better to just remain silent and allow Don to wrestle out of his thoughts on his own, though it was becoming increasingly apparent what a dangerous decision that could very well be, as his withdrawn brother had shown an alarming perchance to fall so deep into his thoughts as to lose all capability in re-engaging with the real world.

But once Don shook his head and glanced back at his younger sibling, he slipped into a smile that didn't quite feel the same as before. "Yeah, I'm fine." He replied in a tone that was anything but convincing, "Hey, want to head down over to that penny arcade on 3rd?"

On cue, Mikey's eyes lit like the proverbial aforementioned arcade game, his entire body perking up with renewed energy. Stowing away his momentary wariness, he bobbed on his toes, practically giddy with anticipation, "You've said the magic words! Let's go for it!"

He was all grins as usual as he turned the other way, yet he remained with one watchful eye on Don. His early worry was officially on the backburner, left to simmer for now but not to be completely forgotten about. It was strange, but as Mikey followed his brother down the fire escape off the roof, he found himself suddenly remembering Leo's lecture of making sure Don didn't lose track of himself. It was to a bit unsettling to realize that someone as smart as Donnie could be so oblivious to reality. But it was better than thinking that his older brother could permanently lose himself in his own mind.

"Hey Mike? Can you do me a favor, though?"

"Huh? Sure. Like what?"

Down on the shadowed streets once more, Don reached out and hung his arm around Mikey's shoulders, steering them onward. "Don't ever stop screaming at low flying planes."


	3. Anger

Anger

**Author's Note: **I am unbelievably excited to post this chapter, and I am very thankful to my beta reader for her tireless assistance and patience. I am also grateful to those who review and follow this story, your support truly lifts my spirits and I am even more excited to continue writing the Turtles. I hope this chapter exceeds expectations, and I will continue to pour all my effort and passion into producing quality, meaningful work.

-oOo-

The distinct smell hit Raphael's nose before he'd even swung himself over the brick ledge. He required no heightened set of ninja skills to locate his younger brother through the thick night air on the otherwise pitch black rooftop, as the heavy scent lead in only one direction.

"Yo Donnie, what did I tell ya about taking it easy on this stuff?"

There was a pause.

Raph settled in down beside Don, relaxing with a comfortable sigh as he stretched his legs out in front of him. Don exhaled. "Sorry."

"Sure," Raph huffed as he reached over and snatched the half smoked joint out of Don's fingers, "you keep this up and you'll get your tail whipped twice as hard during tomorrow's training practice. And I ain't gonna be the one to cover for ya, neither."

Don made a movement that in some form resembled a shrug before he leaned back, resting his shell against the cool brick wall as he tilted his head and stared up at the sky, "Relax. As I've explained numerous times before, this stuff doesn't affect us in the same way it would a human. It's not nearly as potent. Plus it's probably good for us to unwind once in a while anyway."

Raphael snorted in response. "Yeah, try telling that to Mr. Perfect." He muttered as he raised the joint to his own mouth, inhaling, "He'd just tell us to go meditate or somethin'."

Don smiled as he glanced back at the other, but didn't say anything.

"How long ya been up here?"

Don once again gave that motion that was a passable shrug, "I don't know. Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour."

"Jeez, that's all?" Raph reached over and punched Don in the shoulder a bit harder than he'd intended, given the wince it evoked from his little brother. Though it was hardly enough to lessen the rising irritation in his voice, "Donnie, it stinks over here. How much of this crap you been smoking without me?"

The younger turtle attempted to swipe the joint from his brother's fingers, though it was quick to be removed from his sight and he scowled in annoyance. "Don't give me the star pupil speech, Raphael. I know more about this stuff than you do and I know how much my system can handle before it affects my performance. It's not my fault you're always out all the time and it really is none of your business if I have my own ways of dealing with stress."

Raphael had many attributes assigned to Donatello over the years, but of all the names Raph envisioned when he called to mind his brainy brother, overly stressed had never once entered the equation. As the sharp smell of the joint wrapped around his head, it occurred to him how little he was actually aware of when it came to the going ons of his somewhat quieter, if not downright secretive, younger sibling. "Well…jeez, Donnie, you coulda told me." He muttered, "We could do something else if you wanna take your mind offa stuff. Let's go see a movie in that theater down the block."

"It shut down."

"Really? When did that happen?"

"Last winter."

"Oh."

The wind picked up as though the universe couldn't bear to sit through the intensity of such an uncomfortable and utterly awkward silence, filling the void between the two turtles with a low, whistling sound.

"Look Donnie, if you don't want me comin' up here with ya anymore, that's fine."

Don shifted his gaze, frowning, "What?"

Raph hesitated, not quite certain if he was more annoyed or embarrassed about the whole predicament, so he settled for an even mixture of the two, which resulted in near exasperation more than anything, "Well I know this is your spot and all. I mean, you didn't hafta invite me up here with ya, and I know ya like your privacy and everything… But I think it's pretty cool we gotta spot to hang out together."

Raph was horrified to realize that he was babbling, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps Don had severely overestimated the amount of weed their bodies could realistically handle before the effects really began to kick in. Don looking back at him with his particular uncanny state of blankness wasn't helping anything either, and Raph felt the uncharacteristic urge to fidget beneath Donnie's vacant stare. Ready to backtrack for some damage control, he stopped when the other finally answered back, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Raph grinned in relief as he dropped the joint to the ground, crushing it with his fist before Don could protest. "I know we got the lair and all, but I just can't breathe down there sometimes. Leo and Mikey could care less, but it's like we need a place to just get away, you know?"

"Since when did you become interested in spending time with just me?"

Raph's grin faded at his brother's stinging words, though Don's expression remained neutral as he turned his head the other way, staring at the wall a few feet away from them. It was shrouded in darkness, though both turtles knew its painted image well, despite neither having never really discussing the uniformed figures marching back at them.

Closing his eyes, Don exhaled, and Raphael turned the other way. The biting tone of Don's question irritated him, yet he knew better than to answer when his usually complacent younger brother became snappy.

The jittering life of the city filled Raph's head, but if he closed his eyes tight enough everything turned inward. He could hear the sound of his own blood rushing, soon followed by the steady drumming beat of his heart, effectively blocking out the noises of the city. It wasn't particularly difficult to do. Splinter had taught him and his brothers such meditative practices long ago, and although he would never admit it, the steady sound of his own heart always seemed to have a knack for soothing him. A reliable, firm beating, and for a moment Raph wondered if Don's heartbeat sounded the same way to him, or if perhaps the smaller turtle was more prone to faltering in his rhythm

Pulling out of his unproductive thoughts, he turned his attention back to the silence which continued to linger with Don's last sentence. Irritated, Raphael reopened his eyes. He almost spoke as he watched his brother for a moment, whose own eyes remained firmly shut, but decided against it and instead reached over to the beat up battery powered radio shoved against the wall, a so-called gift from Casey from some weeks prior. As the sound of a loud static filled the air, Donatello opened his eyes. For a moment he stared into blank darkness, as he was still facing in the direction of the blacked out mural.

With the overall condition of the radio coupled with poor satellite reception, it was difficult to find more than one or two obscure music stations through all the white noise, but Raph always knew just the right setting to bring it mostly in sync with the local police radio frequency. After all, he figured there was no better way to break an awkward silence than the sounds of crimes being reported and pursued.

The shrieking cry of sirens echoing down the streets alerted them to the night's misfortunate's long before the broken and garbled words over the radio made it through to them.

"…report of a code…corner of …Pier 34…armed and…a dark blue sweatshirt….jeans. Need back…"

Raph grit his teeth as he continued to fiddle with the knob, however as the siren's roar grew more pronounced, it was clear that it didn't matter what more he would manage to hear over the police report. A clear enough picture had already been painted.

"Let's go get him."

Raph's head snapped up at the sudden declaration coming from his younger brother. He attempted to answer, and then stopped when he realized he had no real idea of how to respond. He was used to such self-righteous declarations from either Leo or Mikey, which although easy enough to mock or argue against, he always inevitably agreed to in half a heartbeat. Such words from Donatello's mouth however, had him at a loss. The conviction he heard in Don's voice had struck him and gave him pause, as it was accompanied with a hidden threat which Raph knew only too well.

"What?" Raph hesitated, itching to jump to his feet and grab his sais. He forced the tension from his shoulders, holding himself back with a shake of his head, "Donnie, you've been smoking too much of that stuff. We can't go down there now."

"Yes we can." Don was shuffling as he stood, reaching for his unstrapped bo, his free hand forming into a fist. "Come on, like you wouldn't already be halfway there on any other night if you didn't have me to accompany you. Unless you just assume I will only be a hindrance to you"

Raph remained seated, studying Don hard before he leaned back. He shook his head, hushing his voice down to a smooth calm "Nah. Sit down Donnie." He reached over and turned off the knob on the radio, silencing the night once more, "This thing didn't even tell us where they are. Maybe you can fix it later so it doesn't always cut out so much."

"Is that all I'm good for!"

Raph flinched more than he would ever care to admit, easily blaming his slightly sluggish reaction from his couple of earlier drags. He found that an easier lie to swallow than the reality of such outbursts of unprovoked rage being attributed to Donatello. "All right," Raph scrunched up his face and rubbed his forehead, "or don't, I don't care. Do whatever ya want."

"Fine."

Bo gripped tight in hand, Don hopped up upon the ledge of the wall, and Raph's eyes widened as he watched his little brother give no sign of relinquishing. Don wasn't usually the type to put on false airs of bravado and Raph saw no reason why he would start now.

"Wait. Donnie."

For a moment Don leaned forward, peering over the edge of the building; his gaze traveling to the rest of the rooftops that sprawled before him, no doubt calculating the swiftest route.

Raph had jumped to his feet and was by his side in an instant. Shaking his head, he lowered his voice as he placed a hand on Don's shoulder, "What's gotten into ya?" he fought to keep his voice even as he gave Don's arm a tug back away from the ledge, "Since when do you like picking fights anyway?"

Donatello jerked his arm back, pulling out of his brother's grasp. Raph clenched his fist as his entire body filled with tension, certain that Don would leap off the edge and into the city. He fought to keep his rising temper in check, already figuring that he would have to take on the obnoxious task of chasing after him if he decided to indulge in this unusual newfound tenacity.

But Don remained where he was, crouched low and glaring down hard at the streets below.

"If it's Leo or Mikey, its honor or duty. If it's you, it's vengeance or pride." His eyes snapped over to Raph, "Why do I have to be out of my mind if I'm the one to say we should go?"

Raphael refused to twitch beneath Don's glare, though his skin pricked on his arms nonetheless. The gleam of crimson that lurked beneath Don's usual doe-brown eyes sparked at him and he clenched his teeth. He wasn't used to Donatello focusing such hardness at him, and it burned at him, different than either of their other brothers, deeper than the countless foes he'd once faced. He couldn't recall a time he had ever actually been afraid of his younger brother, and he certainly wasn't now.

However, being afraid _for_ him was an entirely different matter; an uncomfortable situation he realized was occurring more and more frequently. "Donnie, come on. You know I didn't mean it that way. It's just-"

"You just meant that because you and Leo are the strongest, no one else matters or can do anything but hide away in the lair afraid of our asses getting whipped!"

Raph twitched, quashing the instinctual urge to verbally spar back, forcing himself to remain silent. He was acutely aware of the tension radiating from his younger brother, his muscles coiled, hands gripped tightly on his bo as his entire body screamed with repressed energy, begging for the opportunity to take the leap and move. It was a state that Raphael was quite familiar with, but one that he knew his more reserved brother rarely obliged.

Raph took a calculated step back, measuring the extent of which he knew Don would accept being pressed. Although Don's outbursts were rare, they were strikingly intense and demanded that Raphael handle them in a manner he was noticeably unaccustomed to.

Raph had learned from previous trials to tread with care around Don's fits, confronting them as a careful test of wills; and he dealt with each one with precarious caution. Certainly it was easy to retort to Leo's passionate flare-ups by treating fire with fire, just as Mikey's occasional tantrums were usually laughed off by the youngest turtle before anyone had a chance to ever take them very seriously. Donatello's anger, however, was a whole other kettle of fish.

Raphael knew all too well that familiar dark road that Don treaded upon when invoking his more arcane emotions. Yet it was a path he feared when Don ventured down it alone.

Raph not only understood anger, he outright embraced it. It was an integral fraction of who he was, and although it had taken many years and many painful lessons, the sai wielding turtle was beginning to understand how to use it to his advantage. Just as he was beginning to recognize the need others had for it as well, and the role required of him in aiding the less experienced.

"You could care less about me or Mikey." Don powered on, as he began to rock forward slightly, his hands clenching and unclenching as he seemed frustrated at his lack of knowing what to do with his own body. His glare darkened, yet Raph was careful to keep his face blank and retain silence, which further prompted Donatello to raise his voice and propel forward.

"So long as you have Leo to concentrate your attention on with your constant, idiotic internal feuds, what does it matter what anyone else does?" Don's voice shook as he physically bristled, as though challenging Raph to interrupt.

"Do you even care what we have to offer? Maybe Mikey's fine with being a glorified punching bag; as if he gives a damn what we have to say now that he's the best in his own callow-minded little world. He's found where he fits and what he's good at, it doesn't matter to him if you guys care or not.

"And Leo has his role down pat, doesn't he? At least he has the courtesy to feign concern for our well-being, even if just to protect his own hide from Sensei's scorn." Don growled, "He can't keep his precious position as top student without having to put at least some thought into assuring we don't reflect badly on him.

"But as for me, no, if I can't make your bike go faster or make something explode, I may as well not bother at all. What's the importance of being a team when all that apparently matters is being on top?" Don accused, jabbing a shaking finger in Raph's direction before abruptly tearing away to more glare down at the twinkling lights in the streets below.

In spite of the strife it had given him in life, Raphael had learned to appreciate the uncontrollable fire that flared and simmered deep inside, never completely extinguished. Unfortunately, he also understood what it meant to act and speak the words in the heat of the moment, which later only lead to regret. And as intelligent as Donatello was, Raph knew that Don had never really learned to embrace these blacker emotions as he had. Instead, he encased his more powerful emotions, concealing and freezing them like a block of ice, and he did not fully comprehend the dangers of playing with fire.

Although deep down he knew these things, Raph still felt his forehead creasing, and he had to resist his natural urge to retort, knowing it would only satisfy Don's anger in all the wrong ways. He forced his features to smooth, trying to imagine how either of their others brothers would react to Donnie's sudden outburst.

He knew Leo would have been surprised and worried, wanting to examine and pick apart Don's anger, to delve and psychoanalysis the source of this rage, all the while berating himself for not paying more attention and spotting the problem earlier. Likewise, Mikey would try to diffuse the heat of the anger with laughter, trying in vain not to let the hurt show, trying not to take things to heart, to stow away the uncertainty behind a tepid joke or halfhearted gesture.

"And you,"

Raph knew neither option would help him now. Donatello spent his every waking minute examining one thing or another; he didn't need to be made into a test subject himself. Nor did he desire to be pushed into a punch line. What his little brother needed now, was something only he could deliver.

He said nothing.

"You don't care about anyone but yourself." Don spat out vehemently, at last jumping back from the ledge, returning to the roof as he moved to face his brother completely, yet Raph noticed he still was unable to fully meet his own gaze "You can't even pretend that you need us in any way, especially me. If it's not brute force or sarcasm, you're not interested. At least you sometimes humor Leo and Mikey with sparring sessions, but you can't ever spare me one lousy moment, can you? What do I have to offer that you can't find somewhere else? When have I ever been good enough for the almighty Raphael?"

Raph lowered his voice, though, surprisingly, no anger permeated his voice. Even if he had wanted to, Don's antagonizing words begged for a hatred that Raphael would never be capable of.With a rare bought of insight he realized that Don was expecting anger, blame, even hurt and pain to stare back at him, but could not look up to see that Raphael was offering nothing but silent understanding_,_ "When have I ever said your science an' inventions wasn't good enough? When did I say that?

"And when did I say that's all that I ever wanted to do!"

Raph knew the punch held no real threat. It was the realness of Don's clenched fist he now held in his palm, inches away from his face that caught him off guard. Don's hand, even balled as a fist, was smaller than his own, but Raph could still feel the pulsing energy behind it, the force in which it had been moving as it had impacted his own palm.

Raphael's eyes widened as he stared at it for a moment, before reflexively putting space between himself and his brother as Don jerked back his own arm, looking just as surprised. Though Don's shock was only momentary, quick to give way to sheer frustration at the ineffectiveness of his strike, and he gave a furious yell, bo raised in the air.

Raph didn't reach for his sais. Even without the crippling effect of rage skewering Don's concentration, he knew he didn't really need them to disarm his younger brother. But this wasn't the time to rub that in Donatello's face. Don seemed well aware of Raphael's superior physical prowess, the subconscious torment of his own perceived subpar abilities fueling another sudden angry strike.

Now Raphael allowed his instincts to take over, quelling any desire to play the offensive role as he dodged the attack, one hand shooting out and grasping the staff, the other pushing hard on Don's unguarded shoulder to throw him off balance. Don's footing faltered as Raph moved to disarm him, the staff wrenched from his grip as he spun around hard, the back of his shell slamming squarely into Raphael's plastron, his bo locked in front of him, leaving him with nowhere to escape.

Raph tightened his grip on the staff, keeping his brother firmly in place as Don's struggles slowly subsided. He hated the weight of Don's bo in his hands, feeling like a traitor for so easily stripping his brother of his own weapon, yet knew it was the only way to disarm and calm Don with the least amount of abused pride. Even Raphael knew when a sneering victory was unnecessary, as he could still feel the pulsing anger forcing Donatello's body to shake.

As he held firm waiting for his brother's ragged breathing to calm Raph had time to observe just how close his hands were wrapped around Don's plastron, and he was startled at how clearly he could feel the other's heart beating. He was struck by its eerie familiarity, as his own heart pounded steady in his chest.

Despite the rush of adrenaline and fury, it was astonishing how faint Don's heartbeat was compared to his own. Rapid and soft, it practically hummed in a soothing sort of way, contrasting greatly against Raphael's own powerful, thundering beat. This was striking, for it lead Raph to analyze how the strength of their heartbeat mirrored their physical capabilities.

Don continued to shiver, but Raph could feel the tension begin to ebb out of the shorter turtle, so he released his hold on the staff, placing it back in Don's hand as he took a quiet step back away. He waited for Don, watching as the other turtle's fingers curled back around his weapon, as though measuring its weight before using it to steady himself, leaning heavily against it and closing his eyes.

When he spoke again his voice had grown quiet and Raph knew he could step over to face him once again.

"I never had to be the best ninja like you. I was confident in my own capabilities." Don paused before he sighed and reopened his eyes, concentrating on the ground. Raphael waited for Don to look him in the eye, yet was careful not to prod his younger brother into doing so.

"But I realized too late, no one else agreed."

"We all know you can fight, Don." Raphael chose his words carefully, in light of what had just taken place between them, "We all want you with us. We need you, and that means me too."

"And that's why you wanted me to go back to the lair and disappear into my lab?"

Raph didn't respond. He wasn't sure if Don really wanted him to anyway, so it rather worked out for the both of them. The sirens had just about disappeared into the distance, and the usual mass of honking, screeches and buzz of the city nightlife began taking over the sound waves once more.

Raph at last pulled his eyes away from Don, and gazed back out to inky sky and the blinking lights below. Without a word he stepped away and leaped back onto the ledge, aware that Don had lifted his head and was now watching him carefully. A wide grin wormed its way onto his face as Donatello jumped up beside him, crouching down as a cool wind picked up and brushed against them.

Raph could hear it again. That drumming beat, that steady pulse deep in his chest. He was too far now to hear or feel his brother's own pulse, but it occurred to him that Don could not leap off that ledge alone. His heartbeat was too quiet. Though Raph couldn't consider this a bad thing. His own beat had always been strong enough for both of them. For all of them. It supported them_, _reliable and unfalteringfor as long as was needed of him.

Raph reached over, nudging Don's shoulder, his grin transforming into a smirk as he caught his brother's eye, "Let's go find that thieving asshole."

For a single, striking moment, a shock of dread pulsed in Raphael's stomach as he was met with only silence and a deadened, flat stare in return from his younger brother. So easily was Donatello swayed into the more cumbersome aspects of his own emotions, and Raph was beginning to fear he may have at last grown lost in the guilt and shame over the aspects of his nature he often attempted to hide.

The stillness at last gave way and relief flooded through Raph as an energy sparked back in Don's face, that warmth returning to his eyes as Don matched Raphael's smirk with a grin of his own.

He had his brother back.

The events of what had just occurred already receding into a distant memory, one that Raph stored away, careful to preserve its authenticity of a Don rarely seen yet very much in existence.

Don prodded Raph with his elbow, "You got my back?"

"Always, little bro."


	4. Love

Love

**Author's Note: **The final chapter to my first, complete multi-chapter TMNT fanfic. This project has been amazing to work on, and I know I wouldn't be half as proud as I am now to post it without the tireless aid of my totally awesome beta reader, or the wonderful words you all have left as reviews for me. I'm still amazed that a single song inspired me enough to draw it out into an entire story, and I hope my passion I put into my writing reaches through to any who may read this. While this chapter may mark the end to one project, it only paves the way for many more TMNT stories to come and I hope to see you all there. And although reviews are not required, they do inspire!

**Recommended Music: **Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

Without further ado, please enjoy!

-oOo-

The midday sun baked the back of Donatello's shell hot enough to shock a wave of heat stroke down the young turtle's spine. He wasn't used to such high temperatures; after all, it wasn't as though he was entirely accustomed to standing outside in the middle of the afternoon under no cover. None of this seemed to particularly bother him, however, as he remained standing where he was atop the lonely rooftop, still as stone.

He had long since lost track of the time, yet he could not be bothered to remember such things as he focused the entirety of his attention on the expanse of wall that stretched out before him. Every last inch of the concrete was covered in the painstaking detail of a hand-painted marching in sleek black uniforms parading out before him.

It was only possible to gaze upon the entirety of the mural when out in full daylight. It was too large otherwise and often parts of it were cast in shadow. Even now, he could see the dark spots threatening to close in around the edges and wrap around the miniature painted faces of the audience which lined the streets. Nonetheless, every member of the band remained currently untouched by the choking darkness the shadows brought.

Don tried to imagine the type of person who had the patience and time to devote to such an endeavor. It did not look like more than one artist had a hand in creating it. The style was too consistent, the faces all distinct enough to capture their own unique personalities yet similar enough to have come from a single mind.

His gaze had started from the very front, with the leader of the band, the drum major. Perfectly polished, even the gleam of his cap had been painted with utmost perfection and careful precision. This is where it all began. If the drum major had been painted incorrectly, nothing else would have fallen in line. It began with a single individual to set the path. Without their leader, there was no direction and the band would have dispersed.

Traveling from the unyielding face that stared unblinking back at him, Don's eyes swept through the black uniforms. They stopped again. The gleaming polished oranges of the brass instruments all but sparkled out from the wall back at him and Don's mouth tugged up at the corners.

It didn't matter if the average person didn't know a lick about bands, instruments, or what a chord of music was; everyone knew what a trumpet was and what it sounded like. Its distinct, loud and brash tune could be conjured up in the imagination in an instant_, _rattling in the minds of all who had ever heard it. It gave the band its identity. It was the trumpet that the audience always heard first, and the trumpet that tended to last in the minds, long after the parade had passed on by.

Tearing his gaze from the shimmering display of glinting brass, Don continued to admire every detail, from the individually painted feathers on the musician's hats, to the small shining accents on their tightly laced shoes. Nothing was sloppy, and the artist had not cut corners on any minute detail, even towards the end of the mural, where Don at last gazed upon the stern faces of those who made up the drum line.

Don had always admired this section which brought up the back of the parade. It would not matter how well the drum major lead or how loud the trumpets blared, for without the reliable beating of a drum to bring up the rear and enclose everything with its commanding pulse, the rest of the band would crumble and scatter indefinitely. Their powerful beats drummed in the heads and hearts of every member of the band, relentless and forceful. Drummers always seemed to have a reputation for being a little bit crazy, and Don supposed that had to have been true to constantly endure the brunt abuse of the tail end of the show.

There was a quiet rustling as the wind picked up around his feet and Don's shoulders hunched, although he did not turn around.

"Donatello, you should not be up here. Especially not alone."

Don turned, startled. It was an odd sight to see Splinter standing just a few feet away from him in broad daylight, with no inclination to take cover.

"I know," Don gave an apologetic nod as he rubbed his left wrist, "I'm sorry Sensei."

"What is it you are doing up here, my son? Does something trouble you?"

Don hesitated, not entirely certain how to answer before he turned his eyes back on the mural. "This piece is amazing. So much time and work must have gone into it. It's such a shame that it's so hidden and no one can ever see it."

Splinter turned his eyes from his quiet son and over to the mural as well. He studied it. "Sometimes, Donatello, satisfaction is gained through the devotion one pours into a creation, not the attention of an audience."

Don gave a small shrug coupled with another nod, "Yes…I guess so." He paused before turning away, "Maybe someday we'll see a real marching band. I know we've heard trumpets before, but I'd like to see the drum major standing at the front, and the drum line someday too."

Splinter nodded as he joined Don by his side, before asking, "Is that all you would like to see?"

Don tilted his head in confusion, "Well, I mean I'd like to see the whole band, of course. Those are just the most interesting parts."

"Is that so?"

Don's face pulled into a frown as he had a suspicion he was being tested somehow and he didn't quite like feeling so completely unprepared. The elderly rat gave him a small smile as he eased his way closer to the mural, peering in at the tiny faces painted back at him, "A band must play as a group, Donatello. Without one section, the entire melody is lost. No member can stand alone for long, no matter how skilled."

Feeling as though he were being told the obvious, Don bit his tongue and only nodded in agreement, "I understand, Sensei. So then, what part of the band would you like to see?"

"I have always held a particular fondness for the musical triangle."

As before, Don's face contorted into confusion. Splinter only stepped forward, and with one outstretched claw, tapped upon a figure so overcrowded by the other painted bodies it took up no more space on the wall than that of a coin.

Don squinted and leaned in as Splinter withdrew. He hadn't really noticed it before, although he had the sneaking suspicion that anyone other than his Sensei wouldn't have been able to either. He realized he was looking at what made up the pit section of the band, which entailed those instruments too large to carry such as xylophones and were required to be trucked around. Too large or too useless, like the triangle, anyway.

Unable to resist a sigh, Don shook his head "That section may as well not be a part of a band at all." He stepped away, looking instead back over to the larger portion of the parade. "The triangle can't even be heard."

"Quite the contrary, my son." Splinter reached over and placed one gentle paw atop Don's shoulder, "Although it may not be the largest or the loudest instrument, it strikes a powerful note, if given the opportunity. I do not consider any band to be complete without one."

Don said nothing as he mulled over his father's words, and he wondered why he had never really noticed the triangle player before. Now that Splinter had pointed him out, it was almost embarrassing that one would miss an entire section of the band.

Splinter gave Don's shoulder a tug, and the young ninja turned to glance back at him.

"Come. You must return to where you belong."

Don hesitated, "Where I belong?"

"Yes." Splinter nodded, "Your brothers are waiting for you in the dojo. They cannot begin training without you."

Don's features relaxed as a smile spread across his face, "Right, of course Sensei. I apologize for the delay."

Splinter watched as Donatello bounded off ahead of him, relieved to see a tranquility in his son's stride which he had begun to fear would continue to deteriorate and disappear completely. His dark, deep eyes turned upon the wall and he stared. A warm breeze ruffled through his fur, and he closed his eyes and exhaled as the sound of a perfect harmony filled his ears.


End file.
